


Salve Regina

by Temaris



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, Community: kink_bingo, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-31
Updated: 2009-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Temaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lady of Atlantis takes what she wants. Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salve Regina

**Author's Note:**

> Weird AU. Dubious consent. Written for kinkbingo 'Roleplay/AU (authority figures)'.  
> 960 words

  
The Lady of Atlantis frowned faintly at him, and he dropped to his knees. Best not to argue he knew, and waited.

Her bare feet were noiseless on the cool ceramic of Atlantis' throne room, and it was only the soft rustle of her skirts that told him she was walking towards him, down the steps, and close enough to hear her breathing. He didn't move.

"You were not invited to this place," she said. "What brings you here?"

Ronon swallowed. "Mercy, lady."

"Mercy?" There was no inflection to the word, as though she questioned the meaning of the word itself. "What does a Son of Sateda know of mercy?"

"We ... beg of you. Lady. Sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" Her voice turned thoughtful. "And yet Sateda of the Shining Towers offered no sanctuary to the fallen worlds. Offered no ... mercy."

He gritted his teeth. "Sateda could barely defend herself," and oh, that hurt to say. Sateda of the Shining Towers, fallen, culled, lost like the poorest farming world. "We could not --" and he stopped. Sateda had never weakened itself with foolish compassion. It led only to vulnerability, betrayal, loss.

"And yet, you found all those things anyway, did you not?" She was gentle as she spoke, and her words were like swords through his heart. "Vulnerability. Betrayal. Loss."

"Lady." He hung his head lower. What did she *want*?

"For now? Nothing."

"And for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow will come soon enough without fearing it. Stand up."

He rose to his feet. The Lady was small, beautiful, deadly as a rathan. Were it only height or strength that mattered he could break her in two, but he had seen her fighting the Wraith, her swords moving in a glittering blur. And when she lost a sword, her hands and feet were as lethal.

"Teyla, I know that look. Don't--" The tall soldier who had stood silently to the right of her throne all through the audience finally spoke.

"Don't what, John?"

"Teyla," he said again, in warning accents, and Ronon looked away to hide the flash of amusement he felt.

"See, even he knows you're a soft touch." John was shaking his head, but he was smiling at his Queen.

"I gave you sanctuary, too, once," she said softly, and John ducked his head.

"Yes. And mostly, it worked out. That's not what I'm talking about."

Her eyes were dancing as she took a step closer to Ronon. "You kept your Rodney."

John scowled and folded his arms. "That was different."

"Not really," she said. "You knew as soon as you saw him?"

John reddened. "Teyla," was all he managed, somewhat strangled.

"Then let me find mine."

John rolled his eyes. "Fine. I can't stop you."

Teyla grinned, and Ronon swallowed at the wicked beauty of her. "Ronon," she murmured, and slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she pressed her palm over his heart: the forbidden touch.

He slid to his knees again, trapped by her eyes, her touch, so dangerous that it was as though she held his very heart pulsing red and bloody in her palm. "Lady..." The heat in the room was unbearable.

"Yes, take them off," she whispered, and helped as his hands fumbled at buttons and straps. His coat fell to the floor, jerkin and shirt, breeches and drawers, all shucked careless of modesty, neatness, of all consideration of propriety or older claims.

Somewhere, he was dimly aware of the room clearing; of John giving orders, but these were things of no importance. Only the heat in her eyes, and the strength of will holding his volition, and the blaze of want in his gut mattered.

"Beautiful," she murmured, and leaned in to slide her cheek across his chest, her eyes closed. He shook. Her power was unbearable, the smell of her, the raw, untrammeled pheromones reeling him in. Her hand smoothed down his chest, then up again until it was over his mouth.

"Hush," she said, and again, "Hush."

He couldn't help it: he tasted her hand, and shuddered in relief when it did not taste him back. It was only a human palm, small and warm and immovable. He moaned against it, and she leaned in and kissed the back of her hand directly over his lips, as though she could not trust herself to touch mouth to mouth. Her other hand rested on his shoulder, slowly driving him further down until he was on his back, the floor cold under his burning skin.

"Lady," he moaned, and twisted his hips up, offering, and she took. She settled easily astride him, her skirts spreading in soft falls over his sweating body. He strained upwards, and she pushed back, shoving down hard, then took it all, moving at a steady rolling pace that seemed to last forever. Her left hand rested again over his heart, which pounded, and he stared into her eyes, not sure if he was in love or scared out of his mind.

Maybe it was both, and he wasn't sure if the thought was his or hers, and he came, spilling helplessly into her body. Her eyes closed, releasing his gaze and he shook. She was heavy on top of him, her nipples clearly outlined under her top, their bodies still joined, and he couldn't think how they'd come to this, in the throne room itself. He'd only come to beg sanctuary for himself and the few survivors.

"Lady?"

The Lady of Atlantis opened her eyes and smiled at him, and that brief moment of clarity was gone forever. "My fealty, Lady," he said helplessly.

"I accept your fealty, Ronon, no longer of Sateda of the Shining Towers. You are mine now, and you shall be glad of it."

And he was.


End file.
